


The Bone Bed

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Based on the Gillian Anderson's bts photo of an air bed and a pile of bones in the forest.





	The Bone Bed

There was no way this could be happening. Of all the cases they’d been on, of all the strange and wonderfully bizarre things they’d seen, this was up there at the top. The tree canopy stretched out above them. She breathed in the brackish air, her feet sinking into the soft forest floor.  
“What do you make of it, Scully?”  
She turned to see his grin widen, his eyes sparkling, that little expectant nod of his head. He even laughed a little.  
“I’m not sure I’ve got a correct response, Mulder. I mean, we’re five miles into the forest and this…this is completely unexpected. When they said they’d found bones, I…”  
His hand felt charged at the small of her back. A conduit for his excitement. He pushed her forward but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t comprehend what she was looking at.  
He walked around her. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” He ran a hand along one of the walls, smiling back at her.  
She watched his elegant fingers roll around a bone, touching it with such reverence. She knew what they felt like, had held enough during her years on the job. But seeing him do it was something else. It felt odd…almost erotic. His believer hands wrapped around her scientific domain. Connecting. Just like bones do. And here, their job was to hold up, to surround, to protect. Someone, or something as he would have her understand, had built a shelter of bones. Stag horns. Femurs. Skulls. Ribs. And more, knotted together with vines and shaped into a hut.  
He beckoned to her from within its gaping entrance, yawning red in the strange light. Shadows picked out his angular features, lengthened his form and she shivered. The sun slanted beyond, hazy silhouettes of trees fading to silver. It was ethereal and she felt suddenly base. Back to nature. A nice trip to the forest. With Mulder. And his hair was so…on point these days. His clothes fitting – he’d shopped without her and he’d done it right. And he was holding out his hand and she was walking in. His energy, pulling and pulling her.  
And these fucking bones around them. Animalistic.  
Fingertips touched and she sparked. He pulled her in and she felt warm, like he was hide around her. Textured and tactile. His stubble, the skin on his fingers, that vein in his forehead, everything was amplified. Except the silence. It was so quiet inside. She could hear her own pulse. Sense his breathing. The rhythm of his pulse.  
“What are we doing here, Mulder?”  
“Investigating, Scully.”  
“Investigating what?” She was whispering but the forest still around them, listening.  
He bent to her and she tilted her head to kiss him. Surprising herself. “What was that for?”  
Heat rippled across her cheeks. “I’m not sure. Sorry. That was…”  
His lips captured the words and she breathed them into his mouth. She let him explore, let him nuzzle, nip, delve. “Scully, do you….?”  
“I think I do…”  
“Should we…?”  
“Yes,” she breathed, “we should. Before it’s…”  
“What?” he said, “before it’s what?” He shrugged off his backpack. Pulled out a pack and a pump.  
“Mulder?”  
“It’s an airbed. Indian Guide, Scully, remember?”  
“You put an airbed into a backpack for a trip to the forest?” But she was already taking her clothes off and didn’t actually care why.  
“I thought it was a sleeping bag. Remember that case?” He was pumping furiously and she found the flex of his arm fascinating, the roll of his muscles under the shirt.  
“I remember. Please tell me we’re not going to fall down a hole.”  
He turned and pulled her face to his, kissing her deeply while still pumping. “Well, not literally.” He plugged the bed and ripped off his shirt. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, put her hand in his boxers. Bone. Flesh. Urgency.  
“Scully,” he said, his voice stripped back to raw.  
“I know, Mulder.” She pushed him down and let nature take its course.


End file.
